Smile for the Medic
by DesertCat87
Summary: G1 Ratchet and Offbeat have a little heart to heart.


Smile for the Medic 

'So this is what Autobot heroes do, huh?' Offbeat muttered darkly under his breath. 'Wash buckets in repair bay. I was never hired to be wash boy for Primus sake!'

'Then again, I was never even hired. I was just born into this,' Offbeat grumbled under his breath.

All the same though! Why should he be scrubbing tools and listening to Ratchet curse up and down about yesterday's battle scared Sideswipe?

Because his dad signed him up for it, that's why. Offbeat grunted at the soapy bubbles as he stared down at his reflection with a look of disgust. Even the bubbles seemed to mock him as they swirled contently and peacefully around the confines of the bucket. They didn't have to worry about what their image was, whether their pictures showed up on the evening news, or being compared to the other bubbles. Not like he did.

'Maybe if I was a bubble, I'd be free of all of this. I could just be me!' Offbeat thought happily to himself then cringed, 'Then again…I'd be stuck in a bucket my whole life so then maybe I wouldn't want to be a bubble either. Or maybe I already am a bubble and don't know it yet.'

He shrugged off the thought and went back to dumping more buckets of cleanser on the yellow metallic floor. This was definitely the last time he decorated the repair bay with silly string. Of course, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place if his dad didn't rat him out.

Suddenly he heard the door hiss open and two white pair of feet stomp into the room, distracting the young mech from his thoughts. The feet stopped a few inches from his hands and the medic's gruff voice spoke over the top of Offbeat's head.

"You done yet, you miniature terror?"

"Miniature?" Offbeat looked up from his foam covered hands, "I'm taller that Bumblebee and all the other minibots! Doesn't that qualify me for a class above miniature?"

"Hardly. You are still the youngest and that makes you miniature," Ratchet smirked.

Offbeat drew his door panels back, a sign of frustration he had started to pick up from Prowl, and got to his feet. "What is it with you people and being the youngest! I look just as old a Sideswipe and Sunstreaker but they don't get any guff! And yeah, I'm young but that doesn't mean a thing! I can do anything the others can do!"

Ratchet stared blinkingly at Offbeat for a few moments, unsure of what to say. He hadn't meant anything by the comment 'miniature' really. It was more of a diminutive, almost a loving term. Or at least loving in his sense. Not to mention, Ratchet had on several different occasions called him "miniature" or "short stuff," but never had Offbeat been so upset about it. Usually, he'd just wave his hands, grin his father's trademark lopsided grin and walk off without a second thought. If it bothered him now, though, Ratchet surmised that something had triggered that reaction with the word miniature.

The problem for Ratchet was though, Offbeat was supposed to be in his care for the rest of the day as punishment for the silly string incident. That meant Ratchet was going to have to deal with a very unhappy Offbeat. And everyone knew how much fun that was…

It also wasn't easy for the medic to show any "fatherly" affection to the young Porsche, simply because Jazz did happen to be another of his patients and one of his best friends. Although, judging by Offbeat's outburst, he was in need of some fatherly advice. Being miniature in the land of giants was never easy.

Ratchet dropped his arms to his sides and attempted to talk calmly. "You know just as much as I do that you are millions of years younger than the twins and the only reason you look the same age is because Transformer body shells are meant to be updated quickly for the first few cycles. It's the only way for 'children' to survive war. The twins are just stuck in the adolescent period just like you will be soon."

"Yeah yeah," Offbeat waved his hand dismissively, turning away from the medic to hide his face, "I know. 'Once you reach the adolescent period you stay that way for a few millennia.' I know, I know. I got it."

Muttering under his breath, Offbeat dropped back down to his knees, his back to the medic and began going back to what he was doing angrily. The brush groaned under Offbeat's palm, as the tiny quills began falling from their places.

Ratchet pinched his the bridge of his nose and watched Offbeat from the corner of his optics, noting the youngster's drawn back door panels, bits and pieces of brush flying everywhere and his stiff posture.

'Way too much like his mother's temper. I give him three more seconds to explode on me,' the medic shook his head as Offbeat popped back up to his feet, exploding his raging temper like a cluster bomb; just as he had predicted.

So for about five minutes, the CMO watched as Offbeat threw his arms around in wide gestures and listened to his colorful language…a few words Ratchet knew the boy had picked up from him. By the end, Offbeat looked exhausted as he flung himself into the nearest chair, still circulating air to his over heated systems.

Ratchet let go of his nose slowly as the temper tantrum came to the end and sat down beside him, placing his hand of Offbeat's shoulder. And although it was just a simple touch, it was enough for Offbeat to break down.

The medic took a quick look around the repair bay to make sure a red twin was not lurking around. No need for Ratchet to lose his reputation. And if anyone saw what was about to happen, he knew he'd never live it down.

"It's okay, just let it all out, son." Ratchet rocked him back and forth as Offbeat continued to ramble on and on…much like Bluestreak.

"An' I hate it! Nobody looks at me like I'm anythin' other than "Jazz's kid" and no one ever listens. They only listen when I'm in trouble. Even then they just nod their heads and throw me in the cell. That's all it ever is. Even in the newspaper, I'm always followed with "Jazz's kid" whenever they mention my name. I'm never just Offbeat! Why do they-"

Ratchet pulled him back and put a hand over his mouth, "Alright, I get the gist of it. What you're trying to say is that you're always over looked, right?"

Offbeat's head bobbled up and down, Ratchet's hand still covering his mouth.

"And you want to be known for who _you_ are and not just as some kid or just 'that Autobot's kid,' right?"

His head bobbled again.

The medic released his mouth and looked at the youngster optic to optic, "Listen to me, son. I know how much it must irk you but more than likely, you'll always be known as 'the kid.'" Offbeat looked as if he was about to say something, but Ratchet silenced him yet again, "But being known as a kid can be a good thing. Look at it this way; because you are the youngest, all the kids idolize you! They don't want to mimic some old rust bucket like me or Ironhide, do they?"

"No, I guess not…" Offbeat nodded, smiling a little.

Ratchet returned the smile, "Exactly. They want to be strong just like you and the twins. And besides that, being known as Jazz's kid can be a good thing too. He is one of the more popular 'Bots around here."

The young 'bot glared darkly, "So? How would you like to live in someone else's shadow? Those are big feet to fill! Literally!"

Ratchet shook his head, resting his hand on Offbeat's shoulder again, "Ya know, believe it or not, I was in the same position you were. My creator was known all over Cybertron for being a prize winning medic."

Offbeat looked skeptical, "Uh huh…"

"No, I'm serious!" Ratchet held his hands up in defence, "He really was. Everyone in my home city-state knew him and when I was created, everyone expected me to be just like him. Why else did you think I became a medic?"

Offbeat shrugged, looking down at the ground and spinning the tires on his feet with his other foot. "I just thought you liked the job."

"Well I do now, but back then I hated it! I was always afraid to mess up because I thought someone would blame my creator for not making me good enough or blame me for not being as good as him."

The young mech bolted upright like lightning had stuck his aft. "I get that all the time! News reporters keep calling me a bad seed." He frowned at the memory, "Doesn't help any that Rhap' is always called the good kid and I'm the evil twin brother."

The CMO frowned, "Well, everyone tends to label. Sometimes people can't look past a label for the people they really are. Look at me for example. Everyone back home thought that because I'm a medic that I don't like to have fun." Ratchet made a sound much like a human snort, "Can you believe that?"

For the first time that day, Offbeat laughed. After all, the medic was well known for his love of parties. "They really thought that?"

Ratchet nodded, "Yep. So if it makes you feel any better, I know what you're going through."

Offbeat squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, "So what did you do about it? All those people thinking you weren't good enough, making you be someone you don't want to be. What did you tell them?"

Ratchet was quiet for a moment before he turned to look at Offbeat. "What did I tell them? Heh, I didn't tell them anything. I just kept surprising them."

The grin that split Offbeat's face was the biggest Ratchet had ever seen on his face and the medic couldn't help but smile as well. It had seemed like forever since Ratchet had smiled and to his surprise, he found it much better than a frown after all.

The young mech sprung out of the chair and actually…hugged the CMO before bounding out of the room, shouting after him his thanks. Yet despite the rather quick thank you, Ratchet had felt better than he had in years. It wasn't every day he felt a fatherly twinge of pride running through his circuits.

Unfortunately, it was about then that Sideswipe wondered in, shouting his usual greeting of, "Yo Doc! Ya got a sec?"

Ratchet kept his back to him, wiping the smile off his lip components before spinning around with, "What the slag do you want, you little red demon."

But by the end of the day, as he was putting away his tools from a long day's work, Ratchet had found himself smiling again. And even more so, he was actually humming a tune. Not as well as Jazz could, but it was a song never the less. In fact, he was humming so loud that he didn't even hear Wheeljack come up behind him.

"Are you okay?"

Ratchet jumped, coming face to face with the engineer, "Slag, don't do that!"

Wheeljack chuckled, "Sorry, but I was worried about you today. Smiling, humming…giving Offbeat advice…"

"What! I did-" Ratchet shuddered.

Wheeljack held his hand up, "Don't worry. I wont say anything, but I gotta know something first."

Ratchet raised his head to the sky, as if pleading, "What…?"

"Your creators weren't really famous, were they?"

"I never even knew them."


End file.
